


Cold Blooded

by ShevatheGun



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: (and those were just the ones on my bingo card), (now to get the rest buckle up here we go), (very light), Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Bajorans, Barebacking, Bathtub Sex, Bathtubs, Cardassians, Cardassians are cold blooded, Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fondling, Forbidden Love, Fraternization, Humiliation, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, Naprem being cute as hell, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pregnancy Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Snow, Switching, Temperature Play, Vaginal Fingering, Xenophilia, are the best, better united au, do you ever look at someone and you just know. they a lizard, duh - Freeform, hand holding, in the most literal sense, it's about to get saucey, it's what all the kids are doing, kink bingo, ooh boy strap in, soft domming, that's that real kinky shit, what's really impressive is that i did anything on the card at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13653078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShevatheGun/pseuds/ShevatheGun
Summary: In an alternate universe where the Cardassians and the Bajorans founded the Federation, Captain Skrain Dukat and his second-in-command, Lieutenant Commander Tora Naprem, visit the ice planet of Nioria.





	Cold Blooded

**Author's Note:**

> What's good, y'all? I'm posting this as part of the [DS9 Discord Kink Bingo](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ds9discordkinkbingo_spring2018/works), so prepare yourself for some porn-and-things. This fic is set in an AU I mentioned in [Universal Constant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432682), where the Cardassians and the Bajorans were the founding races of the Federation. Since then, I've slightly tweaked the name - they're now the Cardassian-Bajoran Alliance of Planets (the Alliance, for short) - but the concept is the same. There was no Occupation in this universe, and the Bajorans and Cardassians have been allies for multiple generations.
> 
> Thank you so much to all the people who inspired and proofread this little number. I'm really looking forward to busting out some PWPs to break up my work on The Mistress, and I hope you all do, too!
> 
> I'm also going to start including art to help y'all in the visual department. I've had a few sweet folks make Naprem art to share with me, and I want to share it with the world! LLAP lovelies.
> 
> Prompts: cock warming, orgasm control, barebacking

_Lt. Cmdr. Tora Naprem of the Cardassian-Bajoran Alliance of Planets_

* * *

 

Skrain steps out of the runabout behind her, and promptly hisses, sounding pained. His breath barely mists the air, and Naprem sees his ridges tighten and contract around his throat as a snowflake floats down to perch on the tip of his nose.

“Oh, this is intolerable,” he says through his teeth. 

Lieutenant Commander Tora Naprem of the Cardassian-Bajoran Alliance of Planets stifles a laugh behind her hand. She thinks he’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. 

The landing party all filter out of the runabout, looking around at the icy cliffs of Nioria. It’s cool more than cold, soft flakes of snow floating down from the rosy sky above, tinged slightly pink. It’s partially cloudy, but the sun shines through gaps in the clouds, making the snow glitter, and the ice shine like smoked glass. The Niorians, as they emerge from the snowbanks to make themselves known, are similarly beautiful: short and stout with thick double chins and soft round bellies, and pink skin that sparkles like opal.

“It’s wonderful to have you,” the leader says with a deferential coo, batting their long lashes to express a high form of politeness and amiability.

“We’re very grateful for your hospitality,” Naprem says, batting her shorter ones right back.

She glances over at her Captain, who manages a much tighter version of his normal sprawling smile, snow dusting his broad shoulders like sugar.

* * *

 

Nioria’s capital city of Tinkar is as beautiful as Naprem could’ve expected from the outskirts. Great marble white buildings loom over a bustling metropolis, dusted gently with snow. As they walk into the city, beneath a welcoming arch of stone, they walk down a long set of steps, and the buildings slowly rise around them, until soon they’re walking through a path several stories below where they started. The path is decorated with an intricate mosaic of gemstones and colored glass, lined by stone lanterns, and the stone facades of the buildings are so well-polished that Naprem can almost make out her reflection as they pass.

The streets are lined with people and paper streamers, with bells that chime in the gentle breeze. The whole city has turned out to welcome them, and Naprem is delighted to bat eyelashes at every shy child who ducks their head at her before smiling and hiding their face in their parent’s arms. A few street vendors have brought local delicacies to share - school teachers have brought their student’s artwork - politicians have turned out en masse to welcome them. But none are more excited than the crew of the Nintet, who are waiting to meet them at city hall.

“It’s such a pleasure to see you again,” says the captain, twittering their lashes in a way Naprem finds adorable. 

“For us as well,” she says. “It’s good to see you all made it home alright.”

“We owe you a great debt,” coos the captain’s second, giving Naprem a significant look.

“Not at all,” Naprem says. “We were happy to help.”

“Please!” says the captain, waving them inside. “Please, welcome. Welcome to Nioria.”

It’s really only as they’re walking up the steps of city hall that Naprem chances a look back at Skrain, who looks decidedly grim. He shimmies a little, shaking the snow from his uniform. His tail is tucked close to his legs, trying to hide from the cold.

“Captain,” she teases. “I can’t remember the last time you were so quiet.”

Skrain scowls at her, crossing very near as they step through the ornate stone doors into city hall. 

“Perhaps I’m thinking about how profoundly irksome I find mammals, Lieutenant Commander.”

“I’m very surprised you’d keep such an opinion to yourself, Captain,” Naprem says, not bothering to hide her adjoining grin.

* * *

 

The Niorians lead them to a great hall to discuss the terms of a trade agreement. They’re newly spacefaring, which Naprem knows for a fact will make the Vulcans squeamish, but Lieutenant Pak looks absolutely tickled by all this, and while Naprem would usually hate to generalize so broadly, she’s found Pak to be a fine representative of the Human race. If even a simple majority of Humans find the Niorians as endearing as Pak does, the Vulcans won’t have much choice but to accept the Alliance’s judgement.

Their hosts present them with gifts: a beautiful pink marble disc threaded with gold and inlaid with colored glass, a few of the stone lanterns they saw on the path leading down into the city. In return, they present their own gifts: a bottle of Bajoran sparkling wine, which the Niorian captain enjoyed the last time they met, and a frequency that will allow the Niorians to contact nearby Alliance ships - a gesture of goodwill.

The table in the center of the room is spread with food - dried meats and pickled fish, pickled snow radishes, fungi and mushrooms, a block of rock salt which Naprem is assured is edible. All of it is served cold, and while all the officers in the landing party accept the offering graciously, Naprem can tell everyone has at least some reservations. Naprem and the other Bajoran officer aren’t much for the meat, or the rock salt. Lieutenant Pak also gives it a bit of a sideways glance before gingerly placing a thin slice on her plate. The Cardassians - Dukat and Alomar both - seem completely content with the spread. But the temperature puts them off, Naprem can tell by the way they pull their shoulders in and tuck their tails closer to their legs.

As a matter of fact, the temperature in the conference room isn’t much warmer than it was outside. The ceilings are high, and the whole building is made of stone, gleaming and cold. Even Naprem feels a chill beneath her science blues, between the cool of the air and the cool unforgiving metal of her seat. 

The Cardassians, in comparison, appear to be almost in agony. They’ve been increasingly sluggish and quiet since they landed, and the trek through the city seems to have worn them both out. In the cold stone conference room with their chilled banquet, they both look exhausted, skin pale, faces tired. Alomar appears to be close to nodding off. Skrain has himself in a stiff, deliberately uncomfortable position in his chair. 

For his sake, Naprem tries to do most of the talking. But she can tell the Niorians are beginning to notice his silence, and it’s making them nervous.

“Have we failed to make you most comfortable, friends?” the captain asks, some forty minutes into the talks.

Naprem looks to Skrain, but for once, a clever reply doesn’t jump to the front of his mouth. She darts in for him, affection turning quickly to pity.

“Cardassians are ectothermic,” she explains. “I fear the climate is a bit less welcoming for my captain and Lieutenant Alomar than it is for me.”

“Oh,” the captain says with an extremely apologetic tone. “Oh, how very unfortunate. Niorians are abundantly self-regulated, we did not realize.”

Skrain puts out a hand, surprising her and the captain both. “My people are a hardy folk, I assure you,” he says. “My second is… overzealous in her conveyance of the facts.”

“You can barely speak,” Naprem snaps at him, a little embarrassed by him correcting her in front of everyone.

“Please,” Skrain says, ignoring her. “I don’t wish to interrupt the proceedings.”

“Maybe a bit of warm tea,” Naprem says quietly to one of the Niorians and they nod, disappearing to retrieve it.

“That isn’t necessary,” Skrain says, imperiously.

“I’m sure you’ll endeavor to be grateful anyway,” Naprem says, with the slightest arch to her tone.

She sees Skrain swipe his tongue along the inside of his cheek and sigh - not exactly a thank you, but he’s not going to fight her on it. 

The tea arrives, fragrant and steaming. Alomar takes it with a flush of gratitude.

“Thank you,” he murmurs down the row at her, and Naprem looks past Skrain to smile warmly at him.

Skrain takes his tea in hand and simply holds it for a while, stinking of jealousy. Naprem watches him for a second, but he stubbornly refuses to look at her, steam wafting under his sharp chin. Naprem finally relents, and returns her attention to the Niorians and the trade agreement. It’s only after she’s completely forgotten about him that she feels the soft pressure of his hand on her leg.

She blinks. Pauses. Glances down at his hand, laying on her knee, then back up at him. He isn’t looking at her - he’s nursing his tea. The cup has made his hand much warmer than normal. Naprem carefully folds her hands in front of her mouth and goes on listening. 

A few minutes, and he slips his hand a little further up her leg, slowly swirling his ring finger along the inner seam of her pants. It tickles, and it makes her ears burn and her stomach twist. He circles his finger, warm from his cup, ever so lightly against the inside of her leg, and it sends a fearful thrill up her spine.

As inconspicuously as she can, she swats at his wrist, keeping her eyes forward so no one will notice.

“Stop,” she hisses at him. 

“This planet,” Skrain says under his breath, “is unbearable.”

He slides his hand a little further up - nearly out from under the table. Nimbly she grabs his wrist and squeezes, warning him. He squeezes back, fingers pressing into the soft, sensitive flesh of her thigh through her pants and she swallows a gasp. There’s an electric buzz gathering under her skin. No one at the table has noticed.

“Drink your tea,” she tells him.

“I’m cold,” he murmurs.

He squeezes again, and reflexively she jerks her legs together, catching his hand in between. She sees him smirk out of the corner of her eye, feels him squeeze, making her shiver just a little, heat following his fingers as he rubs slowly, fingers moving just below where she’s caught him, petting her. 

“Someone’s going to see,” she whispers.

“Let them see,” Skrain whispers back, and with that, he begins to slide his hand back up the crease of her thighs. With her legs pressed tight together, his hand, too, is pressed tight to her skin, and she feels the whole vivid shape of his hand being dragged, slow, between her thighs, trailing ever closer to her sex, making her skin jump with arousal. She feels goosebumps spring up along her skin, puckering along the inside of her legs, pinching at her nipples under her uniform, sending another thrill up her spine.

She slaps his wrist hard enough to be audible, right on top of his ulnar ridge. He jerks his hand back not a second before everyone turns to look at her.

Naprem smiles disarmingly, as though she’s been listening.

“That sounds wonderful,” she tells the Niorian captain who flutters their lashes, flattered. “Please,” she says, “continue.”

Skrain doesn’t turn his head to look at her. In her periphery, she sees him sip his tea. Her cheeks burn in the cool air of the conference room.

* * *

 

The snowfall has thickened when they step out of city hall. It’s mid-afternoon. The chill has finally begun to eat through Naprem’s flush, and she’s grateful as one of the Niorian’s hands her a thick fur cloak to bundle in. Cloaks are distributed among the members of the landing party, but the Cardassians are far too big for theirs, and are forced to wear them more as furry shawls, draped around their ridges to protect them from the cold.

They're led through the streets to a bazaar, where every stand seems to have been erected strictly for their benefit. Niorians waft between the stalls, but every shopkeep goes to pieces as their landing party approaches, eyes bugging, lashes fluttering, gesturing feverishly to their wares. 

One such shopkeep, a little bolder than the others, entices Naprem to survey their vast collection of jewelry. They take great interest in her  _ d’ja pagh _ with its purple labradorite pendant, and dip into the stock they keep below the display counter to find an exquisite bracelet: interlocking squares of sparkling moonstone, bearing a pearlescent purple sheen. She offers her wrist, pulling it out from under the cloak, and the cool metal is a shock after a moment spent shrouded in the warmth of the fur. She marvels at it, complimenting its craftsmanship at length, and the shopkeep’s whole body illuminates in pink. She reaches for her bag, intending to pay them whatever they ask, but the Niorian captain stops her with a hand on her wrist.

“Please,” they say, “any money is unnecessary. It will be a great honor for them to have any goods accepted by you.”

The shopkeep flutters their lashes eagerly, encouraging her to move on, thanking her in the elongated form of a couplet that they've clearly composed on the spot. They bow and Naprem bows back, aching with gratitude.

As they're walking to the next stall, Skrain surprises her by catching her wrist before she can pull it back beneath her cloak. They've somehow managed to end up towards the back of the group as everyone peers around, chatting with the shopkeeps and the Niorian captain, but Naprem still feels a surge of self-consciousness as Skrain turns her wrist this way and that, slowly circling her pulsepoint with his thumb. He runs his nail gently along the tendons of her wrist, framing one of the squares of the moonstone bracelet, and pushing the cool metal of the chain ever-so slightly into her skin.

“Beautiful,” he admits, and Naprem flushes. She takes her wrist back and he lets her. 

“Not interested in finding anything of your own?” she asks as they make their way through the crowd.

Skrain gives her a look. “Oh, I have something of my own,” he says, “with which I'm  _ quite _ satisfied.”

Naprem flushes deeper and hides her smile against the thick fur of her cloak. 

They continue on, through the thickening throngs of people, bells chiming along the eaves of buildings as the wind picks up, whorls of snow dancing through the air. As the crowd thickens, their landing party begins to disperse towards the edges of the street, still interested in the various goods on display. Skrain presses close to her as they move through a particularly narrow opening in the crowd, and then he doesn't bother to remove himself to a respectable distance. Naprem keeps an eye on their companions with some difficulty - most of the Niorians match her in height.

“You can see them, can't you?” she asks Skrain. “I don't want to get separated.”

“I see them,” Skrain says, calmly. He doesn't even have to crane to see over the crowd. He's head and shoulders above all of them, keen eyes pointed in the direct of their squadmates. Before she can ask, he lifts his wrist communicator to his mouth. “This is Captain Dukat - when you're finished, you'll meet Lieutenant Commander Tora and I at the end of the street. We’ll be waiting for you there.”

“ _ Acknowledged _ ,” come the barks from Pak, Alomar, and Chomje. 

Naprem feels Skrain reach for her again, and this time she offers her hand, delighting in the secretive pleasure of holding hands with him as they make their way down the street. His hand dwarfs hers with his broad, calloused palms and his long, slender fingers, and she can feel how cold he is - without being asked, she brings her second hand up to cup around his knuckles, rubbing slowly to soothe him.

“We should have asked if we could take some of the tea with us,” she says, another wave of pity rolling through her. She always enjoys teasing him, but she knows he's struggling with the cold. 

“You needn’t worry,” he says.

“Well, I do,” she insists, as they finally escape the bulk of the crowd. “I know the cold is getting to you. I should've made sure you and Alomar would be properly accommodated.”

They make their way to a low wall at the edge of the street, just beyond the tide of people washing between the stalls of the bazaar. She turns to him to find him giving her a strange look. His cloak, which barely reaches to his knees, is riding up on one side. She sighs and reaches out to tug it straight again, brushing a bit of snow off the front of it.

It's just as she's finishing with this, hands burning with the cold of the snow, that Skrain darts his hand into her cloak and straight under her uniform shirt. She yelps, jerking as his big hands press like icicles to her sides and he takes the opportunity to pull her flush to him. She squirms, a little breathless - he's so cold it pushed the air out of her lungs for a second. His touch burns like the snow.

“Skrain!”

But he ignores her. She looks up and finds his eyes have fluttered shut. He groans softly.

“You're so  _ warm _ .”

She swats at his hands. “Let  _ go _ !”

“Wouldn't you like to ‘accommodate me,’ Lieutenant Commander?”

Naprem flushes. “Not in a crowd of people - oh, you're so  _ cold _ , let go!”

He ignores her, pushing his hands up the soft sides of her pudgy stomach, around to the crease of her back. He rests his face close to hers and she looks frantically around, scared someone will see.

“Skrain, we’re on a mission, we’re in  _ public _ , you're going to get us both court martialed--  _ Skrain! _ ” And she gasps, jerking in his grasp again, squirming as he pushes his hands up her ribs, under her breasts, molding them to the flesh directly beneath.

“How are you so  _ warm _ ?” he croons. He cups her small breasts and noses into her hair just above her ear, pulling her so close that she can feel every icy inch of his body plastered to hers. He pushes his thumbs against the center of her chest, and she feels her heart jump and stutter at his touch. A bit of cold air is getting into her cloak under the gap he's leaving with his arms, and it floats up the bottom of her shirt, giving her another dizzying round of goosebumps. Skrain lets out a long sigh of relief, nuzzling ever closer, thumbs moving automatically to circle her nipples as they pebble. She shivers, red as a snow beet.

“Skrain!” she hisses.

“Your body is  _ divine _ ,” he whispers in her ear. She feels him roll his hips against hers just so and she squirms, trying to get away. No one in the crowd looks their way but she can hear people talking and children laughing as Skrain Dukat’s icy fingers lazily circle her nipples, pinching and tugging ever so gently, making her pussy pulse with eager surprise and all the rest of her pulse with impending shame. She feels him kiss her temple so gently, hears him purring low with satisfaction, lost in the delight of being warm for just a moment after a long day in the cold, and it would be so sweet if only their squadmates weren't visible through the crowd, if only they weren't beginning to turn their way, if only they weren't drawing nearer…

“Hands,” she hisses. “Now!”

He ignores her once again and so she grabs him by the wrists, shoves his hands back out of her shirt and takes a step back, just in time for Alomar to spot them through the crowd.

“Captain,” Alomar nods, coming near. “Looks like we’re about done here.”

When Naprem glances over at Skrain, he's perfectly composed, hands held behind his back, face stoic.

“Excellent,” he tells Alomar. “We’ll wait here for the others.”

Naprem pushes her legs together against the wanton mumblings of what's between them, and tries to look less red in the face. 

* * *

 

As they descend into the ice caves, led by the Niorian captain, the seam of Naprem’s pants is sawing against her pussy. She steadfastly refuses to acknowledge how irritating it is.

The ice caves are found in the center of town, down another long flight of stairs that makes the rest of the city loom even taller around them. The caves are a sacred place, decorated with ornate twists of stone and twenty foot long streaming chimes made of metal and colored glass. The entrance yawns above them, some sixty feet high, a natural formation in the ice, and as they move in, the cold deepens, permeating with greater and greater force.

The caves are beautiful, decorated with natural structures so wondrous they take Naprem’s breath away. A frozen waterfall graces the main atrium, and several chambers bear artful structures of rare gems, formed in the flash freeze of the planet centuries ago, left in place by awestruck travellers and worshippers. Another chamber is home to a six ton block of rock salt, a holy relic pockmarked in tiny squares - the Niorian captain happily informs them the rock salt that was served at the banquet today was taken from this same block. As they continue downward, the cold sinking in around them, they come to the deepest chamber: a room comprised of sheets of gemstone so tall and so thick that they break the room into a maze. The gem looks like ice, but it reflects them in endless fractals.

“This is the Room of Mirrors,” the Niorian captain says, seeming very flattered by Lieutenant Pak’s open-mouthed wonder and Chomje’s awestruck staring. “Please, feel free to wander - many ascetics and researchers have spent a great deal of time here, immersed in this beauty.”

The landing party slowly disperses, staring up at the sheets of gemstone, marvelling at their own reflection. Naprem does her part to try to be interested, and present. But since they left the bazaar, her body has had other plans.

The crotch of her pants is damp, and she wants desperately to scratch at it - it irritated her the whole walk over, and the whole descent. She's hyper aware of her own pussy, how it aches for attention, and how her whole body follows suit. Skrain has managed to stay very close to her for the duration without anyone seeming the wiser.

She's cross with him. Here she is, on one of the most beautiful planets they've been to in all their travels, and she's not even able to properly enjoy it. She should be recording the beauty of this place in exacting detail - she should be asking the Niorian captain about the historical relevance of this place, of its cultural significance, of its use and function as a place of worship. She should be staring around with wonder, too, making plans to have these caves added to the Anthro-Environmental Protections Clause.

But instead, her focus is inverted. She looks around, taking in the cave with only the barest interest, too distracted by the cold, and the irritation of her body. She aches - her pussy burns, yes, itching as the seam of her pants rubs against it, but her nipples pinch too, and her stomach feels heavy and hot. Since Skrain put his cold hands up her shirt, she hasn't been able to get warm - whether that's the shadow of the late afternoon, or the cold of the cave, or some lingering wanton thought, she doesn't know. She feels intensely dissatisfied, and Skrain hovering so near, but just out of arm's reach, doesn't help in the least.

She strives to ignore him; to ignore all of it. She pulls her fur cloak closer around her and tries to pay attention to the gallery around her. She walks slowly, looking up at the columns of gemstone, catching the gaze of her own reflection by accident. She looks herself up and down in the mirror, which is almost perfect but not quite - as she moves, she sees the sparkle of imperfections in the rock, sees her shape warp a little at slight angles and dips in the gem’s design. She can't make out any of herself under the cloak, which drapes to just above her ankles. She looks like a head floating on a cloud of fur - she snorts and wiggles her toes in her Alliance issue boots.

A bit of cold nips at her neck and she shivers. Her hair is still up in its standard ponytail, and she huffs, using the reflection to guide her as she lets it down in a curtain of black. She runs her hands through it, instantly annoyed by it's thickness but simultaneously grateful as it settles down around her vulnerable nape. She tries to gather it half-up, struggling even with a mirror.

Suddenly, she finds the hair pin stolen out from under her palm, and another pair of hands slides up to help her, long fingers running back through her hair. She shivers again, ticklish, and Skrain carefully pulls her hair back for her, putting it halfway up the way she likes. He pins it, then runs his hands gluttonously through to the ends of it, arranging it around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she says to his reflection. Then, as she looks back at him, standing behind her, “You didn't need to do that.”

Skrain catches a long tress of her hair in his hand, and lifts it to his mouth to give it a gentle kiss. Naprem flushes, heart wringing with happiness, with love. 

She looks around - they're alone, though she can still hear the footsteps of their compatriots echoing around the chamber. In the distance she can hear Alomar and Pak talking, though she can't make out their words. Skrain is still close for her, and when she looks at him, he looks much worse than she remembered - his gaunt face looks somehow even gaunter than normal, sunken in and tired. His movements are slow and sluggish as she takes his hand - it's almost like he's a second behind her, only squeezing her fingers after a moment's delay.

“Are you alright?” she asks, softly.

Skrain sighs, and as he does, she notices how dangerously pale his ridges are. His breath doesn't mist the air. He looks exhausted. She reaches up and rubs his arm through the cloak, but she knows he's too cold. 

“I'm fine,” Skrain says.

“You're a bad liar,” she reminds him, but she's tender about it. She can't be cross with him when he's suffering like this. She squeezes his hand and sees him wince - she looks down and finds the tips of his fingers dark.

“Skrain!” she gasps.

“I'm  _ fine _ ,” he insists. 

“No you aren't,” Naprem says, cradling his hand in hers, rubbing them together to generate heat. She blows on his fingers, pulls his hand under her cloak, frantically trying to get him warm, new bracelet jangling a little as she does. “We should tell the captain, you need--”

“Not yet,” Skrain murmurs, catching her by the shoulder before she can pull him towards help. He reaches up and catches her cheek - she shivers at the cold, gazing up at him, unbearably worried. He strokes her face, gently running his cool fingertips along her cheek. 

“You can tell him in a moment. Not yet,” he says again. “Let me stay in this beautiful place with you for just...a while longer.”

She stares up at him, heart aching, and then she leans up on her tiptoes and presses her forehead to his in a long, soft kiss.

They're alone in the Room of Mirrors - she can only barely hear their crew, voices and footsteps echoing off the walls out of sight. She pulls back, nuzzling Skrain softly as she does, rubbing her nose slowly back and forth against his. She hears him chitter softly with pleasure, the sound much weaker than she's ever heard it. For a second, she's seized with worry, hands clenched around Skrain's own held tight to her chest. But then he tips her chin up again, leveraging the hand still cupping her cheek, and kisses her, and in the back of her mind, Naprem knows that their image is bouncing off the gemstone, that they're being framed in this moment from every angle, caught in a kiss on and on in infinite reflections. 

His mouth is cool against hers, too cool, but as they kiss she feels him grow warmer, feels her heat unstick his throat as his contented rumbling grows louder in his chest. She strokes his lips with her tongue, and as she pulls back, she sees his breath mist again, ever so slightly.

And she has an idea.

She looks around a little, but no one has returned to their corner of the gallery to marvel, and so they remain alone, but for the constant reminder that they aren't, entirely. Unsteadily, Naprem draws Skrain's hand out from under her cloak. She smoothes her fingers over his knuckles soothingly, beckoning him silently to unclench his fist, if he can. He does, though it clearly hurts. 

Naprem swallows, hesitating. But the cold presses down around her, and she looks down at Skrain's long fingers, where frostbite is setting in like a bruise, and she can't resist the thought. After another moment, she carefully rubs her hands over his middle and forefinger, where the pain seems to be the worst and then, carefully, very carefully, she takes them into her mouth.

She feels Skrain start against her, but he doesn't pull back. She pushes her tongue up against his fingers, undulating slowly, pressing up against them as firmly as she can. She maps the shape of them in her mouth, splicing them apart with the tip of her tongue, slowly drawing her head up and down just so. He tastes just slightly like the pickled fish he ate at the banquet, oil and vinegar soaked into his skin. Worried, she draws his fingers in to the knuckle, letting them rest inside her mouth, trying to mind her teeth.

She feels Skrain shudder and relax. He closes his eyes and his head tips back - she sees it in the mirror behind them as his long neck catches in a beautiful arch. The hand still resting on her cheek drops to her neck, and she feels him begin to knead the skin there, just above her collarbone, in time with the slow rolling motions of her mouth. 

He exhales and she makes a soft, surprised noise as he pushes another finger into her mouth. Her lips stretch to accommodate him, and she whisks her tongue along the underside, trying make sure each is equally as warm as the others. There’s a soft, obscene noise as she slicks them. Skrain chitters softly and she sees his tail flick for the first time in an hour.

“ _ Naprem _ ,” he whispers, and she begins to bob her head a little, thoroughly coating all three of his fingers with saliva, trying to gently massage warmth and sensation back into them with her tongue, and the soft motion of her head.

Skrain's free hand moves along her neck. He reaches up to run his knuckles gently along her cheek. She cradles his wrist between her hands, closing her eyes to focus entirely on her task: the soft, ethereal ambiance of the room around them, and her singular dedication to warming his fingers in her mouth, sucking softly to try to get his blood circulating. 

Then, after a moment, she feels him nose into her hair. She feels a gentle pressure on her chest; he presses at her with his free hand, and she stops obediently, looking up at him.

“Wrap your arms around me,” he suggests.

She frowns, brow creasing. She wants to tell him this isn't the time, but he interrupts her before she can insist. 

“Humor me, Commander,” he says. 

She sighs through her nose and dips her hands beneath his clothes to wind her arms around him. Their cloaks overlap, creating an exquisitely soft cloud of warmth around them both. She squeezes without meaning to, trying to impart a bit of her heat into his skinny body.

Skrain presses his forehead to hers and she mewls softly around his fingers. He smiles and withdraws them, slowly, so her mouth lingers, dewy and open, for a second after they leave. With his free hand - well, they're both free now, aren't they? - she feels him reach down to her hip and pull her against him. Then, without warning, she feels him slip his slick, cool fingers down the front of her pants.

She gasps, jerking in his arms, trying to stop him, but she's too slow. He pushes his saliva-slick fingers against the honeyed folds of her and she whines. He strokes her slowly, rolling her  _ orital _ in slow circles, before stroking down to tease and massage her. Her hips roll to meet him and they stay like that for a second - both following the slow, sensuous rhythm he's set.

Then, at the end of the gallery, she hears Chomje exclaim, and Pak begins to laugh, and Skrain strokes her inside her pants even as dread drops into her stomach.

“Skrain!” she hisses, but before she can say anything else, he pushes the thumb of his right hand into her mouth, cradling her cheek, and she's forced to moan her reservations around it as quietly as possible. She squirms, but her arms are still locked around him as he plays with her, sliding his fingers slowly back and forth against her, kneading her, massaging her. Her hips quiver and he sinks one finger inside her, slick as can be, and as he does, he begins to thrust his thumb, very slowly, in and out of her mouth. She whines, squirms, but he keeps her close. The finger inside her beckons, a small  _ come hither _ , and her hips oblige, jerking forward.

She can see herself - both of them - over his shoulder. Their limbs are shrouded beneath the fur of their cloaks, but her legs are knocked apart and there's an unmistakable slow, thrusting motion running up Skrain's arm, from where he's moving his finger inside her. A shudder goes through her, and she sees in the mirror as it runs down her legs, making her tremble and sink down on Skrain's finger, pushing him up against her  _ emital  _ ever so briefly. The flight of ecstasy up her chest makes her body seize up and she grips him tight inside her, pleasure like a bolt of lightning up her chest. Her nose burns and Skrain lets her pull back enough to sneeze - once, twice, thrice, each one making her clench up around him, which only made her even dizzier with pleasure. Arousal throbs in her nose, making her blush so deeply it hurts and she hears Skrain chuckle, peppering her face with kisses. 

He withdraws his fingers and teases, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in little wiggling motions against her  _ orital _ . She shudders, soaking wet. Then, he pushes back inside her, this time with two fingers - she whimpers, feeling too full for just a second as he breaches. But the rush of satisfaction as he pushes all the way inside her is serene. She can't help the way she rolls against him, grinding down against his fingers, stomach hot with want.

“Skrain,” she whimpers, cheeks so warm she could swear they're steaming. “Skrain,  _ please _ \-- Mm--”

Skrain pushes his thumb back into her mouth and she's rendered speechless again. She sucks hard at his thumb, rocking against his fingers inside her as she traces her tongue along his nail and bobs her head, making soft squelching noises as she does. She hears him rumbling his approval - he's hissing softly with arousal, purring against her ear, thrusting his fingers inside her with an expression of contentment. She feels him cup her pussy in his hand, free fingers framing her.

“If you wanted to keep me warm,” he says, lowly, “this will do perfectly.”

She whines and grinds down against him. She milks his fingers, her body hot as a livewire. She tries to resist, tries not to thrust back against him, but his ministrations are so soothing - it feels so good to have him inside her that it's drowning her common sense. Every time she grinds down against him, she feels a powerful jolt of ecstasy. His fingers were cool when they touched her, but they aren't now. She feels him inside her, fingers almost as warm as the pulsing walls around them. Her stomach clenches and she tightens around him. She can see herself in the mirror, red faced and wanton. Somewhere in this room, just out of sight, their crew are talking and exploring, totally unaware that not thirty feet away, Captain Dukat of the CBAV Oralius is wrist deep in his second’s pussy. 

She chokes back a moan, almost pained by how badly she wants him, and he dives in to help her, smothering her noise with a deep kiss. She jerks against him, and he rewards her with a thumb on her  _ orital,  _ rubbing and circling it as he pets her inside, stroking and thrusting slow, sipping from her lips as though he savors her taste. He strokes his tongue over hers and she can feel how swollen it is with arousal, how flushed with blood. She pulls herself closer to him, hands wrapped around his back, one beginning to knot in his uniform shirt. He flexes his fingers and she shudders. She's so close… so close…

Skrain pulls back from their kiss, a lazy smile on his parted lips, and then his tongue darts out in an involuntary motion, scenting the air, and the fingers inside her go still. He turns his head, and with a swell of dread, Naprem recognizes the sound of footsteps coming their way - but her fear is quickly overwhelmed by her desperation. 

The gasp of “please!” is on her lips too quickly, but Skrain pulls his fingers free of her nonetheless, pulling away from her in a single, graceful motion, getting his hands behind his back just as the Niorian captain trots into view.

“Captain,” they say, “I'm sorry to interrupt your enjoyment, but it seems that Lieutenant Alomar is-- Well, that is, he seems a bit under the weather.”

“The cold, most likely,” Skrain says, answering with a calm, commanding tone Naprem realizes she hasn't heard since they landed. “I apologize, Captain - it seems as though we ought to retire early.”

“Of course,” says the Niorian, “of course. I'll show you all to the hotel…”

As they turn away, Skrain looks down at Naprem and chuckles, leaning in to press a soft, secret kiss to her forehead.

“Soon, beloved,” he promises, and Naprem covers her mouth to restrain the sound of annoyance that comes out.

* * *

 

By the time they reach the hotel, Naprem feels she may be quite literally going insane. She has nothing short of a  _ cushion _ of wetness in her pants - a bubble of slick that shifts when she does, that licks at her as she mounts the stairs. They board a small commuter shuttlecraft a short ways from the ice caves, and as she crosses one leg over the other, she catches her own heady scent from under her cloak and it makes her crush her thighs together, trying to restrain it. Skrain is watching her from across the aisle - his color has returned to him somewhat, and his eyes are burning into hers.

They disembark at the foot of a hotel building that towers over all its neighbors, a monolith crosshatched in a beautiful mosaic of white marble that glimmers in the setting sun. Outside, a burbling fountain steams in the cold air. As Naprem passes, she feels heat waft her way, and feels a pang - she's so tired of being cold.

The hotel doors slide open to reveal a cavernous lobby of plush carpeting and even more Niorians eager to impress them. 

“You honor us with your stay,” says the host. “Please, this way.”

Alomar, who has indeed been tottering on his feet, is helped into the elevator by another Niorian who coos up at him in a soothing way. The rest of them follow him inside along with the hotel host, who gives them a short speech about the hotel’s history and best features.

“You are our first intergalactic visitors,” the Niorian host says with a deferential wink, “but our hotel hosts a great variety of important guests from every corner of Nioria. We’re fortunate to have access here to a geothermal fault, the benefits of which are multitudinous - you'll have access to our bounteous hot spring in all of your rooms, and, of course, in our public baths downstairs, for the more adventurous among you…”

The elevator stops on the second highest floor, and the host walks them out, showing Alomar to his room first. 

“Now,” they say, “if you're not too tired, I would be more than happy to show you our hotel’s various amenities…”

“I’d love to,” Lieutenant Pak says. 

“And me,” says Chomje. “Those public baths you mentioned sound wonderful.”

Both women peer over their shoulder at Skrain and Naprem. Skrain puts up his hand amicably. 

“Please,” he says. “Feel free to explore. We’ll meet in the lobby tomorrow morning at 900 hours.”

Chomje gives Naprem a look. “Want to join us, Lieutenant Commander?”

Naprem smiles as politely as she can. “Thank you for the invitation, but I'm afraid I'll retire for the evening.”

Chomje nods and she and Pak grin at each other.

“Of course,” the host says, leading them back to the elevator. “Right this way…”

The captain accompanies them and Alomar to the first room on the hall. “This way,” says the Niorian who has Alomar by the hand. “I'll be seeing to your comfort this evening, Friend of Nioria - I'm to understand you're suffering from the cold.”

Alomar gives Skrain and Naprem a nervous look. The Niorian captain sees this and moves forward with a placating look.

“Nyala is a professional Companion,” they assure Alomar. “They are an expert in medicine and comfort. For guests who are suffering the cold, there is nothing better - they will tend to you in any way you'd like. They will make sure you have a very pleasant and restful night; as compliments from the hotel staff and from myself.”

“Sir?” Alomar says, looking to Skrain for guidance.

Skrain smiles slowly. “Lieutenant,” he says. “When suffering the cold, I find there's few things better for one's health than a… faithful companion.”

Naprem resists the urge to step on his foot. “Think of it as a cultural experience, Lieutenant,” she says.

Alomar nods, not looking particularly enthused as Nyala leads him into his room. 

The captain accompanies Skrain and Naprem down the hall to another door, which they open. The suite beyond is huge, with a kitchenette and a large four poster bed, complete with resplendent white linens. They lead them in, waving on the lights. Beyond the bed, a large window overlooks the city, which glistens below them like a forest of gems. The captain pulls open a door to the bathroom, and inside, Naprem sees a large basin laden with a number of foreign-looking bathing implements.

“This is the executive suite,” the captain says. “Specially prepared for the two of you.”

Naprem stops in her tracks.

“The two of us?” she repeats.

“Yes,” the captain repeats, clearly not sensing her tone. “We apologize that it may seem a bit small - the dignitaries who use this suite have, until now, all been Niorian.” They chuckle at their own little joke, then look up at her.

“Is something wrong?” they ask with a dismayed blink. 

Naprem opens her mouth, glancing at Skrain. He cocks a brow ridge and she flounders.

“There are strict rules about this sort of thing,” she says, “within the Alliance.”

“I don't understand,” the captain says. “What sort of thing? ...command?”

“I… in a sense,” Naprem says. She doesn't know how to phrase this.

Skrain moves in to save her, his tone calm and reassuring. “This could be perceived, by Alliance Central Command, as fraternization between Lieutenant Commander Tora and I.”

“Fraternization?” the captain asks.

“Impropriety,” Skrain explains, entirely unbothered by the whole thing. “The likes of which is expressly forbidden.”

Realization dawns on the captains face. They gasp, eyelashes beating feverishly. 

“Oh,” they say, “oh, we  _ apologize _ , Captain Dukat, we had no idea - this concept, as you present it, is foreign to us. Please, please accept our most humble apologies…”

“It's alright,” Naprem says quickly, feeling awful for having caused them such distress. “Please, it's-- it's quite alright, we simply have to ask that… that you don't mention it to anyone.”

“Of course,” the captain assures her, “oh, yes, of course…”

It takes quite some time to convince them that it really  _ is _ alright, and by the time they leave with a gracious ‘good night,’ Naprem really  _ is _ exhausted. The door shuts and she sags, running her hands back into her hair.

“Oh,” she huffs, “I feel awful. I shouldn't have said anything.”

Behind her, she hears Skrain chuckle.

“Is that really your primary focus, Commander?”

She turns to look at him. He's flopped back on the bed, and he reaches up with his long, sharp fingers and unclasps his cloak. It falls off his shoulders in a furry heap, revealing his uniform beneath, and Naprem feels herself lose her breath a little as he leans back on his hand, presenting his neck ridges for her perusal. 

He purrs, “Wouldn't you rather come over here and… fraternize?”

She tries very hard not to run across the room to him -  _ tries _ . She takes one step and then another, very slow at first, reaching up to undo the clasp of her own fur cloak, realizing as she does that she ought to have offered to give it back. It hits the floor behind her and she doesn't even take her shoes off before she spring into Skrain's lap and his waiting arms, slotting her fingers between the ridges along his cheeks as she kisses him breathless. He grabs her by the ass and pulls her in, and as they roll together they both groan into the kiss. Naprem feels him get a hand beneath her and he grins into her mouth.

“You're  _ soaking _ ,” he purrs.

“Oh, shut up,” she snarls, and she grinds down against him, wiggling her hips until she hears him moan. “I bet you are too.”

Skrain chortles, not bothering to deny it, and as he leans back he takes her with him, sucking luxuriously at her mouth.

“You're unbelievable,” she murmurs, unwilling to truly break from his mouth. She speaks a hair's breadth from his parted lips and he moans and muffles her, tongue pushing hungrily into her mouth. His hands dip up under her uniform again, and this time she follows suit, running her hands over his  _ chula _ , massaging it in small circles under his command green. She feels him cup her breasts, moaning into her mouth as they mirror one another's movements - her against his chest, him against hers. She can feel his heart thumping against the heel of her palm as she teases the bony protrusion beneath his collarbone, and she can feel his tongue in her mouth, beginning to swell again with arousal. 

He sucks and tugs at her bottom lip until she pulls herself free, lips pulsing and tingling from his attention. Her own teeth start where he left off, sinking into her bottom lip as he pinches and strokes at her nipples. Her hips jerk a little where they're hovering over his and he laughs, sliding one of his hands down her chest, over her hip, tickling her a little just before he pushes it down the back of her pants to get a handful of her ass. He purrs a little, spanks her, and her hips jerk again as she pulses with pleasure.

“Skrain!” she gasps.

“Let me see you,” he croons. 

She tries to catch her breath. He pulls her into the cradle of his skinny hips and she sits, obligingly, unable to help the desperate little movements of her own. She undoes the closures of her jacket and pulls it off, and then her black turtleneck follows, messing up her hair as she gets it off. It all joins her cloak on the floor in a disorganized heap. As she sits forward, leaning off Skrain's hips to pull off her boots, Skrain's arms wrap around her and pull her in, and before she can get her pants all the way down her thighs she feels his mouth on her nipple and her train of thought abruptly derails. She whines and squirms, halfway between ticklish and feverish as Skrain licks and sucks. He nips her once and she  _ squeaks _ , spasming. He chuckles and takes her into his cool mouth again, and she narrowly succeeds in kicking her pants off.

Skrain levies a hand over her rump and sinks his fingers back inside her before Naprem realizes he's still fully clothed. 

“You too,” she gasps, fingers curling in the bedding beside his head. “Skrain… hurry, you too…”

“Mm.” Skrain hums with her nipple in his mouth and the sensation is electrifying. “No, I don't think so…”

Naprem freezes, hips mid-motion. She sits up, ignoring the way it drives his fingers into her walls. 

“You're still too cold,” she realizes.

“I'm fine,” he grouses. “Get back here.”

“You only have one uniform, I'm not going to… come all over it,” Naprem says, her pique just narrowly allowing her to say the word  _ come _ out loud. 

Skrain frowns and twists his fingers inside her. In spite of herself, she whimpers, hips hitching. It feels so good she can hardly bear it. 

She swats him after a second, breath hitching. “Get up.”

He ignores her, undulating his fingers, making her hips sway.

“ _ Stoooop _ ,” she whines. “Skrain, get up…”

Skrain sighs long-sufferingly and carefully withdraws his fingers. Naprem gets off the bed, and without bothering to explain, she pulls him to the bathroom. He follows her in, tail swaying behind him.

Naprem quickly glances over the instructions, and begins turning dials and knobs as Skrain sidles up behind her. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, winding his arms around her.

“Hot spring,” she says, and the water begins running, flowing into the bath with a plume of steam. The water flows evenly from an open top faucet, washing into the tub, and the room begins to fill with steam and heat.

“And how do you imagine I'll be fitting into that?” Skrain asks, reaching up to mold one of her breasts to his palm, and reaching down to push his fingers inside her again. Naprem moans, going sway-backed, grinding back against him, pushing against his hands. Skrain's mouth finds her neck and he begins to suck and bite the soft, ridgeless skin there, marking her as his.

“There’s… there's enough room,” Naprem answers, but on examination, she's not entirely certain there is. The bath is calibrated to short, pudgy Niorian bodies - perfect for her, but a bit cramped for Skrain. “We’ll get creative.”

Skrain huffs disbelievingly into her skin, thrusting his fingers inside her with a bit more relish. As the tub fills, he abandons her breast in favor of plunging his fingers into her open mouth, moving them in sync with the fingers thrusting into her pussy. She makes sloppy, wet noises around him, lubrication dampening her quivering thighs, saliva dribbling down her chin as she obediently sucks around his fingers.

She reaches out a trembling hand and barely shuts the water off before the tub overflows. Skrain takes advantage of her distraction to tug at her from inside, and pulls his hand from her mouth to spin her around. He swallows her feverish noise of pleasure and kisses her until she can't breathe, hips still rolling against him, ass pressed to the edge of the tub. 

She pulls back, trying to find where she left off. “Take your clothes off and get in,” she breathes.

“And where will  _ you _ go?” he asks, sardonically.

She huffs and pushes at his chest, right against his  _ chula  _ to make sure he's paying attention. He winces, exhaling the hiss she's heard him holding back since she first kissed him, and now that it's free, he can't seem to stop it. It surges in his throat, twisting into soft, delighted chittering as she kneads his  _ chula _ through his uniform. His neck ridges are swollen and bruised-looking, and she cups them to hear him moan.

“Get undressed,” she urges him. “Let me see you.”

He finally obliges her, withdrawing his fingers yet again. He reaches up and undoes the closures of his jacket, taking it off and tossing it in the counter. He untucks his undershirt and pulls it down his arms, stepping out of it to avoid pulling it over his swollen ridges. Then, he unbuttons his pants and let's them drop to the floor.

Naprem sees his microscales bunch up and his headfeathers puff up from the chill. He winces. She takes him in: all flushed, swollen ridges and bunched up pride, slit gaping and wet between his legs. 

She thinks he’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“Get in,” she says, gently.

He sighs, but doesn’t argue. He carefully steps into the tub, one dainty clawed foot, then the other. He carefully arranges himself over the seat against the back wall and then slowly, slowly sinks down into the water. Naprem sees his ridges flood with color, and his mouth falls open - he’s too tall to get beneath the water without propping his feet against the side of the tub and curling his shoulders under, but Naprem helps him and he does, toes jutting up over the side of the pink tub, expression heavenly.

“ _ Naprem _ ,” he sighs, as though it’s all her doing, and she can’t fight the smile that blossoms on her mouth. 

“There,” she coos, “see? Isn’t that better?”

Skrain huffs, clearly not liking her know-it-all tone, but not really able to say anything to counter it. He sinks in up to his chin, curling his tail awkwardly along the bottom of the tub so that all of him can fit. 

“Come here,” he pouts.

“Alright,” she laughs, “alright, be patient.” And she carefully finagles her way into the water, stepping in, carefully avoiding the crossbeams of his skinny legs and his tail. She leans in and he leans up to meet her, pulling his head above the water to kiss her. She puts her hands on his neck and slowly massages his swollen ridges as he croons into her mouth. Water laps at her ass and the backs of her thighs as his hands wind their way up onto her hips, and she straddles him, letting him pull her slowly into the water. The tub overflows as she wraps around him, spilling a little over the edge, and she moans at the heat of the water. It feels so  _ good _ \- heat sinking into her bones, tingling in her toes and her fingers, pushing at her back and tickling her nose. Skrain chuckles and it turns into a purr as he kisses her shoulder and her neck. Naprem tilts her head, catches his mouth with hers, and cups his neck with her hands.

Skrain holds her close to him, and she begins to roll her hips against his, gently, methodically. She feels his  _ chuva _ , the protrusion of bone incredibly pleasurable where it catches at her  _ orital _ . As she moves, water laps the sides of the tub, spilling down the sides, dripping on the floor. She tries to be careful, but she gets lost in moving with him, kissing him slowly and deeply, sucking on his thick, swollen tongue, pushing her hands against his dark, swollen ridges, rocking her hips against his, the soft, constant pressure both torturous and satisfying. 

He pulls her up with a grip on her ass, so that she’s on her knees on the seat, hips hovering over his, breasts hanging over the surface of the water. She shivers as Skrain’s eyes follow a bead of water that slides down her collarbone to drip from her nipple. She feels his hand move up her thigh, and for a second, she wants to warn him not to open her up - the water’s so warm, she’s scared it will hurt, but he takes her nipple into his mouth again and she loses her words. He pushes his fingers inside her again, and she cries as the hot water follows them in, spreading her, it seems, even wider. He pushes his fingers into her, and she feels her lubrication trail in the water, feels the heat squeeze her  _ orital _ like another hand. She’s been in a state of arousal for so long that it almost hurts to still be waiting - it  _ hurts _ to have gone so long without orgasm, and as he strokes into her, long fingers barely making it to her  _ emital _ , the hot button lurking near the entrance to her womb, she doesn’t know how much more she can take. Her stomach aches with need.

But she knows he needs time - he’s been so cold all day, he needs time for the warmth to work its way inside him and truly restore him. So she tries - she tries to be good, rolling against his finger as he beckons her, arching into his mouth as he sucks at her nipple and plays with her breasts, molding and massaging them, pinching them, nipping and biting them, leaving small marks behind on her brown skin. 

“Skrain,” she whimpers, finally. “I want… I…”

Skrain purrs, dragging his tongue over her breast in one last swipe before he looks up at her. Through the steam, she can see a roguish look in his eye, puckish and perverse, and she knows he’s delighted with the thrall he holds over her. 

“What?” he asks, like he doesn’t know.

“ _ Skrain _ ,” she pleads. Her face flushes with embarrassment.

He croons, pleased as punch. “Say it, beloved.”

She bites her lip, whining again, grinding back against his fingers. He tuts, leaning up to catch her chin between his thumb and forefinger with his opposite hand, burying the ones inside her cruelly deep.

“Say it,” he says, smirking up at her. “We both know you want it, don’t we? Say, ‘ _ I want you inside me. _ ’” He tips his head. “I know you can do it.”

Naprem flushes deeper and ducks her head, face burning with humiliation. She can’t, she can’t possibly. He’s already humiliated her more than enough today. But he stops the motion of his fingers, and no matter how she grinds against them, he won’t resume his movements. He smirks at her, pulsing with newfound energy.

“Naprem,” he tuts. “Come now. Say it: ‘ _ I want you inside me. _ ’”

Naprem’s chin trembles and she hides her face.

“I… I want…” The words hurt where they’re resting in her throat. She can’t, she thinks, and it makes her almost frantic. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t…

Skrain’s hand catches her cheek and he lifts her head. 

“Naprem,” he says, gently. “I know you can say it.”

She shakes her head rapidly, so red it’s stretching down her neck into the water. All at once she feels close to tears. Her voice trembles. “I--”

Skrain makes a soft, comforting noise and pulls her to him, his arm around her shoulder. “ _ Hush _ ,” he urges her, “hush.” He nuzzles her neck and gives her  _ orital _ a reassuring swipe with his thumb. “Whisper,” he suggests. “Whisper it to me. No one else can hear you. It’s just you and me.”

Naprem’s breath hitches and she wraps her arms around his neck. After a moment, she turns her head and whispers to him.

“I…” Her breath ruptures and she gasps for another. “I want you… inside me.”

“Inside you?” Skrain repeats, smiling into her skin. “Darling, I’m already inside you.”

Naprem jerks back, a look of utter betrayal on her face. “Skrain!”

He laughs, not letting her get far. He reels her in with a few beckoning motions of his fingers, and she sways against him reluctantly, flushed with anger. Skrain turns his head, murmuring into her ear.

“You want my  _ cock _ inside you?” 

Naprem gasps again, not entirely of her own free will.

“You want me to come inside you?” he suggests, pushing a third finger inside her at long last. It aches; she’s achingly full, but it’s still not enough. She adjusts too quickly, and she moans her tortured discontent.  _ She needs more than fingers _ , she tries to say with a particularly deep flex of her hips. 

“You want me to fill you up?” Skrain purrs, and without wanting to, Naprem feels herself nodding her head yes. “It’s been over a month since your last preventative, Naprem,” he says, and though it sounds like he’s scolding her, Naprem can feel his ridges  _ throb _ with arousal. “Who knows what could happen if we’re careless - what would Central Command think of  _ that _ , do you think?” He presses his mouth to her ear. “How would you lie to them, with my baby in your belly?”

Naprem jerks against him, brain molten with desperation. “Skrain,  _ please _ !”

“Up,” he says, as beautifully breathless as she is, “up--” And it’s such a relief to, at least for a moment, see the truth: he’s as gone as she is, just as eager, just as wanton. She scrambles up off him, narrowly missing his tail, and water sloshes over the side of the tub as he whirls her around, forcing her to plant her hands against the side of the tub as he surges up behind her. One of his hand wanders up her front as the other takes hold of her hip, and she feels him evert against her as he kisses between her shoulder blades.

“Chaos,” he croons, leaning back. “Well,” he chuckles, “you have been doing your best to keep me warm haven’t you? I hope you won’t mind - I think the warmest place for  _ this _ will be…”

He pushes into her, and it’s the sweetest relief she’s ever felt. His cock spreads her wider than his fingers, pushing deeper than they can go - she’s so easy and open, and it feels as though she has been for hours. He pulls at her hip, pushing into her from tip to hilt, until she’s snug against his pelvis and so full of him that she might cry. The water is so warm that his cock, which has lain snug inside him for the duration, is  _ burning _ with it, so hot inside her that she almost goes to pieces. Her legs are trembling as he starts to rock against her, rolling his hips, moving slowly in and out of her, the dorsal ridges on his underside dragging at the lips of her pussy. Water sloshes over the edge, over her hands, and she feels him, so warm and safe inside her, right where he belongs. 

Skrain pulls her to him, panting, chest pressed to her back as he moves inside her. He begins to move quicker, picking up his pace, hammering into her - the first time he strikes her  _ emital _ directly she shrieks with relief, and once he’s found it he’s unrelenting, slamming in so hard it makes her eyes roll back in her head. She bucks, water slapping the backs of her thighs, and she hears him snarl with gratification. 

“ _ Naprem _ ,” he sighs. “Chaos, you’re so warm…” 

He pistons inside her, making her keen as he drives up against her  _ emital _ , grinding his cock against the entrance of her womb with such purpose that a warning thrill goes up her chest. What if he’s right? What is her preventative fails? She’s past due for her shot, over the 28 day safety limit, and here she is, sloppy wet and shaking around Skrain Dukat’s cock. The thought alone makes her squeeze him, milk him, wring him out inside her and he shouts, arching inside her.

“ _ Chaos! _ Oh, chaos take me,  _ Naprem! _ ”

He slams inside her and a cascade of water sloshes out of the tub onto the floor. Naprem holds on, fighting not to be pitched forward as he fucks her in earnest - the mirror over the sink is steamed up, and thank the Prophets for small miracles, because Naprem can only imagine how she looks, moaning as loud as she is, Skrain sunk into her as deep as he can go. Her hair is sticking to her back and to her shoulders - her new moonstone bracelet winks up at her, the only witness to her poor impulse control, and surely that’s what this is - surely it’s just that she can’t properly control herself around him…

Skrain reaches around her front to frame his cock with his fingers as it slides in and out of her. She’s dripping into the water, pussy pulsing and sucking at him so lewdly that for every spiral of ecstasy she feels a simultaneous jab of shame. He strokes her  _ orital _ , reaches up to brush her wet hair out of the way so he can kiss her neck. He fondles her breasts where they’re bouncing against her chest. Her pussy  _ burns _ around him, and she’s losing her sense of rhythm. Her knees ache, and her shoulders, and she wants to  _ come _ , she wants to come so badly--

Skrain kisses feverishly at her throat and along her cheek.

“Be here,” he urges her, and she feels him go a little slower, grinding more deeply. “Be here with me, beloved.  _ Oh _ … you’re so beautiful. You feel so good - you’re so warm, so perfect. Chaos-- I’ve been thinking about this all day, I’ve just been imagining how you would look when I was finally… finally inside you, again…”

She whimpers, trying to get out of her own head. Skrain arches purposefully against her  _ emital _ and she lets out a long, broken moan.

“Naprem,” he murmurs. “I love you. I love you more than my own life. I love you  _ so much _ …”

And then he sinks his teeth into her shoulder and bucks inside her, slamming against her  _ emital _ one last time, and orgasm explodes behind her eyes.

Her body seizes - she feels herself lock up, her hips jerking and stuttering. She feels herself gape open and then screw impossibly tight around him as sovereign, scintillating heat explodes in her chest and wave after wave of it obliterates her mind. Ecstasy is so hot that it boils in her blood, sending her mind in glorious, swooping, acrobatic pinwheels as her body gasps and shudders and rattles. She feels everything in minute detail - Skrain, holding her, catching her as she loses her grip on the slippery side of the tub, pulling her, cradling her against his chest and she fits so perfectly, like she was always meant to be there. Skrain, inside of her, the perfect shape and size, so big but also just big enough, his ridges a glorious, unending sensation, his forked tip pressed to her  _ emital _ . Skrain,  _ chuva _ kissing the dimples of her lower back,  _ chula _ kissing between her shoulder blades,  _ chufa _ kissing the top of her head. She falls apart in his arms, ecstasy as powerful and aching as heartbreak surging through her. She rises like a tide, bucking in an endless wave as she comes and comes, and just as it seems like it might be dying down, she feels Skrain rise to meet her, feels him gasp and groan and hump forward, burying himself inside her so he can spill inside her, filling her up just like he promised, and she’s lost again, crying and spasming against him as Skrain floods her womb and spills all down her legs to the hot water below. 

* * *

 

It’s an exquisite treat to get to sleep in the same bed. Once they’ve put a few towels down to soak up their mess in the bathroom, and set about the task of actually bathing, they retire together. Naprem pulls the fur cloaks over them, and they kiss and explore one another beneath the covers at a leisurely pace as outside the window dusk overtakes twilight, and evening overtakes dusk. 

Snow collects at the edges of their window as Skrain snuggles into her, finally tired enough that he’s begun to go lax in conversation. He tucks her to his body, and she obliges him, wrapping her legs around his hips, and her arms around his shoulders. He’s everted still, but spent, and they linger like that, close to sleep, but not quite dozing.

“It’s been a wonderful trip,” Naprem murmurs to him, after a few moments of silence.

“It has,” Skrain agrees. “I suppose you were right about the Niorians after all.”

“I’m usually right,” Naprem says, and Skrain snorts into her hair.

“I suppose you are,” he agrees. “Still. In the future, I’d prefer somewhere warm.”

Naprem leans up and noses his chin, giving him a brief little kiss. She wiggles back against him, and, without really any intention to finish what she’s starting, she positions herself, and slips his cock back inside her.

“All you have to do is ask,” she says, sleepily.

Skrain groans, but burrows into her without much fuss, and after a few moments, they each fall asleep, tangled up in one another, happy, and blissfully warm.


End file.
